


Beneath the Skin

by Isis



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Canon Blending, Gen, If you read it that way, Pre-Slash, Selkies, Supernatural Elements, Trick or Treat: Trick, Which I do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 03:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: Marcus remembered the stories that the men stationed at Isca Dumnoniorum had told each other, as they sat around the fire and passed around a skin of wine; stories of the various wondrous and unnatural creatures of Britain.





	Beneath the Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [downjune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/downjune/gifts).

> This is of necessity a mix of movie and book canon, because I have watched the former and read the latter so many times that they have jumbled together in my head.

Esca was not in the house. Nor was he in the courtyard, but there Marcus found one of his uncle’s slaves, who said that Esca had gone down to the river to bathe; that had been in the morning, though, and it was already nearly midday. His brow furrowed with worry, Marcus took his walking-stick and carefully made his way down the rocky path. 

When he reached the riverbank, Marcus saw Esca’s tunic and braies neatly piled under a shrub, but of the man himself he saw no sign. He scanned the water in both directions, and for an instant his heart clenched as he saw movement – a thrashing limb? – but then the dark shape that had caught his eye broke the surface, and he saw it was only the broad back of a large otter, playing in the current. 

After a quarter of an hour spent leaning against a tree and anxiously scanning the river, Marcus sighed to himself and returned to the house. It was not as though he could do anything, if Esca had been swept away. And he supposed he should not be so concerned about the welfare of a slave. Yet he had been the one to cause him to be spared, in the arena, and so he felt responsible; and anyway, he had grown fond of Esca.

In the afternoon his heart leapt when Esca came to tend to him. “I had feared you drowned in the river, when you did not return before noon.”

“I lost track of time. I did not mean to shirk my duties.”

Marcus laughed. “You have few enough of those, save for keeping me company. It is only that I worried for you.”

“I am a good swimmer,” said Esca simply.

Marcus considered the man before him, his brown skin, his supple form. Where had he been, when Marcus had been looking for him? He remembered the stories that the men stationed at Isca Dumnoniorum had told each other, as they sat around the fire and passed around a skin of wine; stories of the various wondrous and unnatural creatures of Britain. Little dark people there were, that could do strange magics. Great hounds that foretold death, and horses that would drag you into the sea to drown. But despite his tribal language and customs, Esca did not seem like anything other than a man. 

Finally he said, “If it is that you like to swim in the river, I will not keep you from it. But do not let the time get away from you again.”

A few days later, Esca came to Marcus and begged permission to bathe in the river, which Marcus immediately granted. “But return in an hour,” he added, “and if you are not back, I will come look for you.”

But he did not wait that long. Instead he set out for the river after less than half an hour had passed. Again he saw the pile of Esca’s clothes by the water, but this time instead of approaching, he hid himself in a stand of trees, feeling somewhat foolish as he did so. Perhaps it was only that Esca truly was a strong swimmer, and that day had struck out upriver beyond the curve that was the farthest that Marcus could see from his place on the shore. 

Without warning, Esca’s head broke the surface. Shaking the water from his hair, he stood straight, the river parting around his hips; then he strode toward the riverbank. There was something in his hands, something large and dark and glistening, and he bent to wedge it among some rocks that split the current in the shallows before wading out and onto the dry land. 

Marcus watched as Esca dressed himself. He did not look like anything other than a young, well-formed man. And yet he had appeared from under the water as though from nowhere. He had been clutching something that looked like the sleek skin of an otter, and he had hidden it in the rocks. One of the legionary soldiers’ stories came to mind: the tale of a woman who put on a seal’s skin and became a seal, and of the man who wanted to keep her and so burned the seal’s skin, so she could not change from her human form. Was Esca a changeling, not a true man but a monster?

Once clothed, Esca began to walk back toward the house. Marcus held his breath as he approached his hiding-place, but Esca walked by...and then stopped and turned, frowning. He looked into the copse. Their eyes met.

Shamefacedly Marcus stepped out from among the trees. “I must offer my apologies. What you do at the river is your own business, and I should not have been watching you.”

“Will you turn me away, then? Or burn me for an unnatural creature?” Esca’s body was as tense as a drawn bow-string. 

“You could have escaped,” said Marcus softly. “You could have followed the river to your freedom.”

“There are too many Romans.” Esca spat the words out as though they tasted bitter in his mouth. “They would send me back to the arena, and you would not be there to spare my life.” He looked up at Marcus. “What will you do to me?”

“Why, I will lean on you.” He held out his arm. “My leg has been complaining that I have been standing too long. You must help me up the path.” 

Esca looked at his arm as though Marcus were holding a live snake. Then he said, “You know where I have hidden my skin.”

“Yes,” he said. “If you would like to move it to another place, I will not watch you. Or you may take it with you to the house, and hide it later.”

“You have power over me! Why do you not take it?”

“Why do you not swim away? And do not say it is the Romans. You could stay in the water, if you chose.”

Esca was silent for a moment. Then he took Marcus’ arm, and together they walked slowly toward the house.


End file.
